middaeg | open catch-all + closed prompts for August

[Even before her transformation into a predatory Monster, Fang was a hunter. It was observation and judgement as much as her skill that kept her alive against the savage beasts of Gran Pulse, and that same watchfulness that helped to tide her through foreign cultures thrice over. However, it was that growing influence of the Monster that she was becoming that pushed her to ultimately seek out Ozymandias—a persistent curiosity that wouldn't leave her alone.]

[It took a while to subtly figure out who he was. Fang was fairly confidant she watched the right man mill through the crowds and ceremonies, at ease with their foreign merriment. But observation, while a precious source of information to a hunter, only got one so far. Experience was at the heart of it.]

[She finally approaches Ozymandias after some time, at the end of his enduring gauntlet of dances. As his last dance leaves, a city native charmed by the chance to meet an otherworldly Mirrorbound, Fang offers him a cup, filled with some kind of watery non-alcoholic juice drink made from a variety of summer fruits—a traditional drink, or something like that.]

You think you'd be tired after all that whirlin' about you're doing.

[Her usual blue sari's been traded out for a more festive garment: a loose two-layered robe-like piece in rich orange and yellow, after fall colors, hanging off one shoulder and tied about the waist. Though several months into her stay in Aefenglom, Fang carries only a few visible traces of her status as a Monster; slightly pointed nails, less-slightly pointed teeth, and a little dark fur sporting darker ringed spots around her shoulders and upper back.]

[Ozymandias looks at Fang with no visible sign of recognition. Although Ursula has spoken of her Bonded, he's never pried. It's never been particularly relevant insomuch that while obviously an important relationship to Ursula, it is ultimately hers. So, as far as Ozymandias is concerned, whatever Ursula wishes to share is enough until something changes to make it otherwise.]

[When he sensed someone else approaching, he assumed it was yet another eager, potential dance partner, but after a moment of looking at her face, his gaze briefly drops down to the offered cup. He takes it with no word of thanks, already beginning to move away from the dance floor, and motions with his free hand for her to follow. Because if it's a word with him that she desires, she'll have a much better chance of having it if they are not within easy reach or approach of another dance partner.]

[Ozymandias laughs at her remark though as he goes, loud and boisterous.]

How could I be? It's not yet the early hours of the morning. [Granted, his recent illness has actually slowed his pace a little to what it might normally be. He's mostly recovered at this point, but spending the better part of a month sleeping and lying around in a bed leaves even someone like him with a little less pep in their step than usual. He's keeping up quite well though, he thinks. Perhaps not until early hours of the morning levels of keeping up, but he's not really ready to call it quits just yet.] I don't believe I've seen you out there. Not one for dance?

[First contact played out as she expected from her surveillance. Self-assured (Fang hadn't yet ruled out self-absorbed), outgoing, bombastic. Observant, she adds to that list.]

Not for a long while, now. Guess I grew out of it. [Technically true, she supposed. Oerba's holidays were so long ago. And other things, like not knowing any of the dances this culture practiced. Fang follows with her own drink, sitting on a low brick wall that separated the little squre from the street.]

You, on the other hand, look in your right element out there. Doesn't bother you at all it's some stranger's party, does it?

[It's nothing accusatory in her tone. Just curiosity.]

[As she takes a seat on the wall, Ozymandias merely leans against it, opting to remain standing. He huffs a small laugh at her question, shaking his head no.]

Not at all. As it so happens, I'm in need of some levity and this suits me just fine.

[Ozymandias doesn't elaborate any further than that. His pride could barely tolerate those who paid him visits in the infirmary being aware of how weak he'd become; a stranger was out of the question. He brushes straight past any opportunity for her to ask after a reason by continuing,]

My only hope is that I am not a distraction from the couple of honor.

[Ozymandias is not only aware of his presence and its effect on the people around him, he's proud of it. Everything Ozymandias says or does, no matter how great or small it may be, is intentionally for the glory of all pharaohs (especially himself) to be known. But with that pride, there is also an undercurrent of sincerity in his desire not to be too much of a distraction. While he could not possibly stand being overlooked, he would genuinely prefer that this still remain a celebration of the couple.]

[Fang huffs a laugh. ]

Maybe you ought to turn it down a notch then, pretty boy. You had yourself a line there, for a little while.

[She idly swirls her drink, watching the wedding party dance on, and takes a sip. ]

Don't think you've got anything to sweat, though. Those two haven't had eyes for anyone but each other. Cheers to them.

[Ozymandias might normally bristle a little at the "pretty boy" remark, given it being a little too familiar from someone he hasn't so much as exchanged names with. But given the setting, it doesn't bother him in the slightest and he grins in amusement.]

[Nodding in her agreement about her observation of the couple, looking in their direction, he says,]

It's wonderful that such love and affection is still possible given the state of things in this world. It shows there is still yet hope. [He looks back at Fang.] You have been watching me for a while then, have you?

[As much as he genuinely approves of the couple, it's hard to miss that she commented on him having a line of dance partners. It doesn't seem the sort of thing he should allow to slip by without any notice.]

[Good; observant indeed. She would've been a little disappointed if he missed that. Fang chuckles. At the risk if flattering that already sizeable ego:]

What can I say? You're an eye-catcher. All those other people agree. [Be it for different reasons than Fang's, but whatever. Details.]

Most of the other mirrorbound look like they'd rather have their teeth pulled than be out here. You look like you were born into a bloody dance. Refreshing change of pace. At this rate, the natives're gonna think the whole lot of us are grumps.

[It honestly sort of was, her purpose for being here aside.]

[He laughs, loudly and with genuine amusement at her assertion of his nature. She's not too far off the mark.]

I am a son of Ra. My radiance is meant to shine brighter and without compare. [He offers this as both an explanation for his ease at being the center of attention as well as his willingness to participate in these festivities.] But I am not unreasonable. I know that not all of the mirrorbound are suited for this. They have other roles to play.

[That's not to say that Ozymandias isn't genuinely enjoying himself. These ceremonies and parties have acted as a suitable distraction from whatever lingers from the month prior and might otherwise worsen his mood after all. But even without recognition of his station and titles, he is still the embodiment of his world's sun. He has an obligation to act as a beacon, to remain the ideal pharaoh. While he cannot predict what is to come for the mirrorbound or the natives to this land, it seems apparent from what lies beyond the Wall that wherever they might find to unwind or celebrate, it should be seized upon to strengthen one's resolve.]

[He explains none of this, however, because for him it's simply a given.]

I would say you play yours quite well.

[He doesn't suspect she is Ursula's Bonded or that she's more or less investigating him, but she was bold enough to approach him for conversation and held his attention for this long. He hasn't even had a sip of the glass she'd given him. It bears acknowledgment from him.]

[On her mental list of traits, she underlines 'bombastic.' Who even talks like that? Aside from Barthandalus, but Fang doesn't even think of comparing him to that bastard.]

[There's no recognition in her features as he mentions Ra. She turns her head to him, arching an amused eyebrow at his cryptic line.]

Yeah? And just what role would you say that is?

[He's not surprised to see the lack of recognition and says nothing of it. It serves as a sign that they are likely from very different worlds, nothing more. Instead, he considers her question for a moment.]

You're an observer, are you not? Why else stay on the fringes of this celebration? If something about me hadn't piqued your interest enough, I don't imagine you would have ever moved closer to the center.

[It's difficult to watch when you're in the middle of it after all. Your attention is then too narrowed to what's in front of you.]

[Fang's smile quirks up more at one corner. She understood the unspoken reasoning this go around—it was right, after all—and approved.]

Well, guess one of us has got to play look out, hm?

[She glances back out to the crowd, hoping to direct his attention back that way.]

Guess you're right about bein' an observer. Can't blame any of the others for gettin' caught up in the noise of this place or what it's doin' to 'em—[She gestures vaguely at a passing naga. How awful would it be to go scaly and lose your legs?]—but danger's not always gonna be in the form of a slobberin' Shade. Coven tries to make this place out to be so great, Cwyld aside, and I don't trust sweet-talkers.

[Ha, ha, ha. The turnskin shrugs non-nonchalantly.] And hey, if everything's great and there's nothing to be lookin' for, what better way to learn about these people than watchin'?

[Ozymandias looks back out over at the crowd when she directs his attention there, letting it linger there beyond the passing naga as she continues talking. As he looks, his smallest dance partner waves enthusiastically at him. Ozymandias smiles, raising a hand briefly to return her wave to her delight before she is distracted once more by an older sibling.]

[Fang makes excellent points. Everyone is quite wrapped up in all the changes this place has forced upon them, Ozymandias included, but that may not be the true danger. Sometimes the biggest threat can be in plain sight and yet completely obfuscated by its normalcy or more obvious dangers until you know to look for it.]

So which is it then? [He looks back at Fang.] Am I dangerous or interesting?

[Her smile broadens into a grin, turning to meet his gaze.]

Oh, probably interesting, but I'm not rulin' the other one out. The smooth ones're always hardest to judge. It'd be pointless to ask which one you want to be, yeah?

[He huffs a laugh.]

I suppose it would be pointless if my word is to be so summarily deemed untrustworthy. Especially given that I don't know yet what it is you would consider so dangerous.

[She raises a palm in a 'no offense' gesture.]

It's nothin' specific to you. It's just kinda like askin' someone "Can I trust you?", you know? The answer's always gonna be yes—especially if you can't trust 'em.

[Fang sips her drink, then tilts in her head slightly in a way that's both curious and amused. She know she can be a little paranoid, but believing in the goodwill of others has been a luxury she's been afforded very little in life. She knew plenty of people that did assume the best, always, but it still baffled her how they could do that.]

Or are you the kinda guy that takes what everyone says at face value? Lady Luck must've taken a shine to you and your adventures with other people, if that's the case.

[Trust is a complicated matter. It depends far too greatly on the context -- the people, the situation -- to be so straightforward a thing that it is given easily and quickly every time. Even from Ozymandias' position as someone who has been blessed by the gods numerous times in his lifetime and thereafter knows better than to always freely place his trust in others. He must be wiser than that and see through to their hearts, judging their intentions. But that does not mean it is an impossible thing to place his trust in another easily. He's more than capable of it and has done so both with and without negative consequences.]

[He shakes his head no.]

There is no denying that the gods guide me in my judgments, but my trust must be earned like any other.

[He huffs a small laugh once more. What a poor king he would make if that were not the case. Everything his grandfather and father had built would have crumbled under his rule if he placed blind trust in everyone around him with so many vying for the ear of Pharaoh.]

Words have meaning to me. If someone swears something to me, I will hold them to their word and accept nothing less than direct action to support what it is they've promised. I do not tolerate the alternative.

[Interesting. It's almost like a compromise between suspicion and trust, valuing words like that. A point in his favor if he holds himself to that. She hums a note of agreement.]

Big fan of promises, then.

[But something vague and subtle flickers in her expression when he mentions the gods' guidance. A point against him, potentially--perhaps even a large one, depending on how far it goes.]

The gods, huh? They earn your trust, too?

[It's not difficult to miss the shift in her expression, but the gods remain ever important to Ozymandias. Even if his heart still aches from time to time when his thoughts turn to Moses or that of Amun... His faith in the gods is unwavering. He notices the reactions of others when it comes to mentions of the gods. He can guess what her thoughts likely are to be, but it does not stop him from professing his faith or his divine rights.]

[He takes a sip from his cup, his expression a little more serious than it had been.]

I know by appearances I likely seem little older than you, but I have already lived the whole of my life. My name is remembered and revered even millennia after my death. But were it not for the gods choosing me to be the greatest pharaoh the world has ever known, this would not be so.

[Such thinking could easily be taken as arrogance. An active unwillingness to see an alternative perspective. Perhaps in his youth, his true youth, Ozymandias might have been so stubborn for that to be so. But at this point, he comes by these beliefs quite honestly. To him, the alternatives have been considered and found to be untrue; the gods have always been with him since birth, leading him towards greatness both for himself as the embodiment of Ra and for the sake of Egypt. That's simply all there is to it.]

It is because of that they have my trust.

[Fang's smile touches her eyes again, and quirks up a little more at the mention of age. A dead man, though? Curious. She'd heard some mirrorbound were like that. She wanted to ask more about that, sometime.]

[That "greatest the world has ever known" bit, though, changes the "self-assured" on her mental list to "self-absorbed." Still, there didn't seem to be anything egregious so far. Just spirituality.]

Well, after a spiel like that, you've got to tell me what a pharaoh is. Sounds important. [There's just curiosity in her tone. It really did sound important to the bigger picture.]

[He chuckles at her noting of the importance of Pharaoh. An understatement, to be sure. Her assumption of how much this may fill in about him is not entirely off the mark either. Being pharaoh is simply intrinsic to who he is.]

Pharaoh is the title given to those with the divine right to rule over a land now known as Egypt, and who acted as the mediator between the people and the gods. There hasn't been a pharaoh in Egypt for well over a thousand years after the empire fell to the Romans.

[While he does not say this necessarily with a dispassionate tone, he is neither angry nor bitter over the fall. Although he brought Egypt to glory and its golden era, he knew even when alive that these things could not be so forever. Only the gods were truly eternal.]

That is what I meant when I called myself a son of Ra. All pharaohs are his descendants and the living embodiments of the Sun.

[Divine right to rule. Mediator between humans and gods, descended from those same gods. A thousand years gone.]

[It's sounded exactly like the damned fal'Cie.]

[Her mind had avoided the association before, but as that interpretation settled into place, his dynamic manner of speaking suddenly left a shadow of Barthandalus in her mind, freezing any progression towards goodwill in her mind.]

[Granted, it was just a shadow. It could be an unfortunate coincidence, that's all; not impossible to overcome. After all, Ursula saw something good in him, didn't she? Fang's cautious to keep her face relaxed this time around, unlike that flicker at the mention of gods.]

So, what, that make you some kind of godling, yeah? Divine right to rule's a pretty bold claim.

[Yeah, recover her progression of goodwill, sure. Maybe Fang would open a daycare, too. Who was she kidding? It was even a god of sun or light or whatever.]

[But she wasn't here to antagonize him. She'd try her damnedest not to.]

[Ozymandias is unaware of her souring attitude towards him, but he knows she does not believe his words to hold any truth by speaking of his right as a "pretty bold claim." Had she not warned him earlier of her tendency to dismiss what someone like him might say as truth, that would be enough to strike a nerve and send this conversation in a very different and far more heated direction. As it is, he senses the moment it needles at him and creates space for himself to temper it by taking another drink from his cup. It is, he concludes, no fault of her own for questioning when that is in her nature.]

[He's willing to give her the benefit of the doubt that no offense is meant by it.]

My spirit is no less a God-King than I was in life, if that is what you mean to ask, but I will never know immortality as the other pharaohs.

[The noise he makes and the flicker of a smile is bitter and without mirth. It's clearly not something he prefers to think about. But Fang doesn't know, so he deigns to elaborate a little. He has to break eye contact to do so, however, raising his chin as he looks out over the crowd.]

Had my body remained in the Valley of Kings, I would have awakened within it among the gods and spent my eternal life in glorious battle against evil that threatens mankind. But it was removed long ago and so I can only be awakened as a spirit by a mage with enough skill and mana to sustain me.

[The next laugh he huffs has a little more amusement to it as he looks at her again. It is rather absurd how far he's been pulled from his long-desired immortality with the additional changes being mirrorbound has brought upon him, stripping him of even more power and place more limitations. At the very least, Chaldea provided him with the opportunity to protect humanity alongside other great and heroic figures. Here? Well.]

This place, of course, has not simplified anything as I'm sure you yourself can understand.

[Assuming she didn't walk into this place with those fairly subtle but still noticeable monstrous features.]

[Scratch sounding like a shadow of Barthandalus; that sounds like something the bloody fal'Cie would say, completely with a longing to go join Daddy God-of-Light. It made her wonder how much of his projected honor and compassion was done as a blessing, as pity, to the poor, lost humans. Besides, how far up your own ass do you have to be to believe you had the divine right to boss people around?]

[Who would ever want to call themselves a god? The more Fang learned of them, in her world, the more they showed their colors as cowards. But she was here to give this man the benefit of the doubt, as long as he wasn't dangerous. Maybe Ra was different. She had to try to believe that.]

[So Fang tries, and tries to sympathize. Her long-slumbering body was moved, once to disastrous results. That's relatable, right?]

Mm, neat story. [She says, as she gives her drink an idle swirl.] You're really not missin' much; take it from someone who's been through the whole immortality deal.

[Sip.]

[It is more than a little blasphemous for her to speak so dismissively of the afterlife, but a moment after his brow furrows it sinks in that she is not speaking of what he had been destined for. She refers to her own experience in such a way, and in doing so has made a false equivalency. Whether the comparison is intentional or not is difficult to say, but from her words and tone, it seems he cannot fault her.]

[Some relish in being a Heroic Spirit and seek to have their opportunity for the Holy Grail, while others do not. Those that do cannot truly begrudge those who do not.]

[So, although it is somewhat incomprehensible, it appears to be the same here and his expression... Well, it does not particularly soften, but any evidence of anger is replaced by curiosity but also quiet respect. If she is (or at least was) as she says and truly immortal, he cannot bring himself to truly pry despite how much he might want to know. He knows the journey to the afterlife is more dangerous for those from lower than his royal birth in his own world, but that never discouraged anyone from being prepared to seek it out once their transient sleep had begun. What could she have possibly experienced that would cause her to feel such a way towards the gift of immortality?]

You...?

[He trails off, leaving the question (or rather questions) hanging in the air between them.]

[The unspoken questions go unheard—or mostly unheard, anyway. It's clearly something that he's coveted, and she interprets that furrowed brow as shock that someone like her might have it, and a "God-King" not.]

[Fang's smile quirks up, her head tilting a tad.]

Really don't look like the oldest hag around where I'm from, do I? Think 1634 was the year I'm goin' on. History's pretty unclear in some spots.

[Her smile loses its humored edge, no longer touching her eyes.]

Been through it two different ways. Seen it another. Two of 'em rot the soul, and the other's a glorified prison that gets to be the best of the lot by not bein' as shitty as the others. A few people manage okay—but an eternity, to stew in your regrets? To have little chance at lettin' it go as the world moves on without you? That's torture—a curse.

open catch-all + closed prompts for August

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